


Love Will Ruin Us

by TheFlirtMeister



Category: IT (1990)
Genre: Adulthood, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, Short, mini series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2017-10-20
Packaged: 2019-01-20 02:43:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12423444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlirtMeister/pseuds/TheFlirtMeister
Summary: “You were ruder to me when we were kids.”“Fuck you, I was always good to you.” Richie says, and Eddie tugs at Richie’s hair lightly.“Then why do we never talk anymore?”Richie doesn’t have an answer.





	Love Will Ruin Us

Eddie visits him one day, because it’s summer and there’s nothing better to do. They’re late 30’s, Richie hosts the most-watched television show in the US, and Eddie writes up life insurance for a living.

Eddie arrives late afternoon, carrying a small suitcase with his name stitched onto it. He’s wearing a shirt and tie, and Richie can see the beads of sweat forming on his brow as he greets him at the door.

“Hey Eddie Spaghetti.”

“I told you not to call me that.” Eddie replies, and moves his arms awkwardly, as if going to hug Richie, and then deciding not to.

Richie meets him halfway, pulling him into an embrace, and Eddie’s head fits comfortably in the crook of Richie’s shoulder. They stay there for a moment, heavy breathing, and then Richie slaps Eddie on the back three times and pulls away.

“Missed you.” He says.

“I missed you too.” Eddie replies, and Richie leads him into the house.

*

Richie doesn’t keep in touch with any of the other losers, he hasn’t spoken to Stan since they were 15, and the others are about the same. He knows that Bev’s fashion line is going well, he’s even worn one of her men’s shirts for a magazine shoot, and he’s read one or two of Bill’s books.

“Do you talk to any of them?” He asks Eddie, sitting on the guest bedroom as Eddie unpacks, hanging up his clothes neatly.

“I talk to Mike occasionally.” Eddie says, “Bev, when she calls. Apart from that, no.”

“Huh.” Richie says. He watches Eddie take a shirt from the case, smooth out its creases, and then slip it onto the hanger. “How’s your mother?”

“Dying.” Eddie replies.

“Your wife?”

Eddie doesn’t reply. He hangs up the shirt in the wardrobe, and then nods to himself. “There.”

“As anal as ever Eds.” Richie says, and flops back on the bed, looking at Eddie upside down.

“You’re a menace.” Eddie says, and turns away.

*

They eat dinner in Richie’s living room, watching shit television and drinking an excellent bottle of wine. Eddie is leaning against Richie, spooning peas into his mouth, and Richie keeps playing with his hair to piss him off.

“It had a style to it before I walked through the door.” Eddie says, shaking his head as Richie runs his fingers through it. It never used to be like this, the crazy mop of curls, and Richie loves it.

“Well, now I ruined it.” Richie replies, and Eddie huffs, “Are you mad at me?”

“I’m always mad at you.” Eddie says. “It’s my permanent state of being.”

“No it isn’t.” Richie tells him, “You love me.”

 There’s a beat of silence. Eddie draws a pattern on his plate with gravy.

“I guess I’m not always mad at you.” He replies quietly, and they continue watching television, even though neither of them know what the program is.

*

“Did you hear about Ben’s girlfriend?” Richie asks as Eddie washes up, scrubbing each plate methodically.

“No, I didn’t.” Eddie says, and lifts up his shoulder to wipe soap suds off his face. “What about her?”

“Apparently she’s a distant relative of the Royal family.” Richie says, and pours a dollop of washing up liquid onto his hands so he can make bubbles with them. “She’s also incredibly hot.”

“Have you ever seen her?” Eddie asks, and Richie shakes her head.

“No, but I can imagine.” He blows a bubble, watches it float off above their heads. “Bet she’s got big tits.”

“Richie.”

“And she’s seen her fair share of crown jewels in her time.”

“Richie.” Eddie repeats again, and Richie blows a bubble at him. “Beep Beep.”

“Which thing, the girl or the bubbles?”

“Both.” Eddie says firmly, and shakes water from his hands. “I’ve finished.”

“There’s plates left in the sink-“

“I’m finished.” Eddie repeats, and stalks off.

*

Richie persuades Eddie to have a nightcap with him, and they sit on the balcony drinking scotch. The night sky is dark, and the stars are scattered across like fallen petals. Richie leans back in his deck chair, and looks up at the moon.

“It’s full.” He says, “Werewolves will be out tonight.”

“I hope they don’t know where you live.” Eddie says idly, flicking through a magazine that he’s brought outside with him.

“Awoo!” Richie calls out into the darkness, but nothing answers back. He laughs, and admires the moon again.

“Same moon we looked up at when we were kids Eddie.”

“Huh.” Eddie says, tilting his head back to look at it too. Richie admires the curve of his throat.

“Do you think the other Losers are looking up at the moon tonight?” He asks, drunk.

“I hope so.” Eddie says, and Richie reaches out and touches his hand, and wonders whose benefit Eddie’s lying for.

*

They fuck, Richie leaning against the headboard with Eddie on his lap. He leaves angry red hickies all across Eddie’s skin, biting down even when Eddie yelps with a mixture of pain and pleasure.

“You animal.” Eddie breathes into Richie’s ear, as Richie’s hands slide up and down his back, leaving fingernail marks.

“You love it though, don’t you?” Richie asks, and god his eyes are going out of focus from how fucking good this feels.

“Debatable.” Eddie says, because he’s still a smartass during sex, and Richie reaches between Eddie’s legs and tugs at his cock, and Eddie moans out a word that might just be Richie’s name.

“Fuck you.” He says, and Richie smirks and kisses him.

*

They eat breakfast in Richie’s bed, spilling toast crumbs and jam everywhere. Richie sucks butter off Eddie’s fingers, and Eddie snorts and pushing him away, chastising him fondly. It’s a miracle to see Eddie eat as much as he does, and afterwards, Richie lays with his head on Eddie’s stomach, the two of them idly talking.

“Apparently one of Bill’s books is being made into a movie.” Eddie says sleepily.

“Fuck.” Richie says, impressed. “Think they’ll cast me?”

“Unless the part is for a sad lonely ginger man with an awful moustache, then no.” Eddie says, and Richie prods him in the stomach. “Ow!”

“You’re so rude to me.” Richie pouts, and Eddie smiles, running his hands through Richie’s hair.

“You were ruder to me when we were kids.”

“Fuck you, I was always good to you.” Richie says, and Eddie tugs at Richie’s hair lightly.

“Then why do we never talk anymore?”

Richie doesn’t have an answer.

*

Richie takes Eddie along to one of the tapings of his show, a Thursday afternoon slot where everyone pretends it’s Friday night. Eddie sits in Richie’s dressing room, watches him get dressed and prepare for the show, stays silent as Richie reads over his lines.

“What do you think?” Richie asks, holding out his arms and spinning about. “Handsome?”

“Always.” Eddie says, and Richie ducks his head and kisses him. Eddie kisses back, pulling Richie down by his balloon patterned tie, and Richie goes easily.

“I could broadcast this to the world.” He whispers in Eddie’s ear, and he’s just moving down to Eddie’s neck, where he knows there are bruises, when there’s a knock at the door.

They pull apart, Eddie running a hand through his hair, Richie smoothing down his shirt, as an assistant pokes her head around the door.

“Five minutes Mr Tozier.” She says, and Richie nods, clears his throat.

“Thank you.” He says, and he can feel Eddie’s eyes on him, watching.

*

Eddie gets the phone call in the middle of lunch, Richie telling some bullshit story about a priest he used to know. He watches Eddie answer his brick of a mobile phone, the way his already pale face turns even paler, until there’s a ghost standing in his house.

“What is it?” Richie asks when Eddie hangs up the phone, already reaching into his pocket for his inhaler.

“My mother’s had a stroke.” He says, and then takes three quick puffs, “They don’t think she’s going to make it.”

“Fuck.” Richie says, “I’ll drive you to the airport.”

“Shit.” Eddie says, blinking hard, and it takes Richie a second to realise he’s crying. “I don’t want her to die Richie.”

Richie stands up fast from the table, his chair scraping back. He pulls Eddie into a hug, holding him close. “I know Eddie.”

“I hate her so much though.” Eddie says in a quiet voice. “God I hate her.”

“I know,” Richie says, and presses kisses to Eddie’s forehead. “I know.”

*

They say goodbye in the airport terminal, awkward and uncomfortable with this sudden display of non-affection. Richie bought the plane ticket for Eddie, even though Eddie insisted, telling him that he could make it up to him later.

“I guess this is goodbye?” Eddie says, twisting as he stands. “I’m sorry I couldn’t stay longer-“

“It’s fine.” Richie says, “Seriously. Go to your mom.”

“I should.” Eddie says, and then drops his suitcase to the ground and instead wrapping his arms around Richie. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” Richie replies, hugging him back tightly. He knows people are staring and he doesn’t care. “Take care of yourself.”

“I will, I will, promise.” Eddie steps back, takes a deep breath. “See you Trashmouth.”

“See you Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie replies, and watches Eddie turn and start to walk towards the gate.

He doesn’t stop watching until Eddie disappears from view, and pretends the tears aren’t dripping down his nose, and onto the linoleum below.

**Author's Note:**

> if you know me then you know /exactly/ what fic this is based on.......... god im such old men trash


End file.
